Stalker's Thoughts
by AlienEeeter
Summary: A series of short vignettes revolving around Draco’s little Harry Potter obsession. Slashy themes.
1. I Despise

Stalker's Thoughts  
  
'I Despise' and 'Torture' started out as single fics, 'Torture' being the companion to the other. I figured I could have a lot of fun playing with Draco's emotions. So I decided to make this into an ongoing series of H/D angst, from Draco's POV.   
  
Dunno how many parts it'll be. The whole will cover their seventh year at Hogwarts.   
  
*****  
  
I Despise  
  
I despise Harry Potter. Hate him with all of my being. What he is, who he's friends with. I hate how he walks and what he eats, what he wears. I hate those stupid glasses and that scar that no matter what makes him look sexier than any living person on earth.  
  
I'm watching him now, at the feast, sitting at the Griffindor table with that annoying Weasley and Mudblood Granger. They're laughing and smiling. That never happens at the Slytherin table, unless I'm making fun of Potter and they're listening. Not that their attention is anything great. A bunch of idiots, the lot of them. We may be destined to be powerful dark wizards, but the power comes from only a few of us.   
  
Power. How can he have so much power? He defeated the Dark Lord, sure enough, but how? There's nothing at all that special about him. Only gets through Potions because Dumbledore won't let Snape fail him. Though he is smart, I'll give him that. Also incredibly brave. I don't like to admit that I am a coward. That is maybe, the one thing about him that I admire.  
  
That and the way his hair is always falling into his face-damn, I'm doing it again. Or that strange quirk, wearing a broken watch. It's one thing, imagining him close against me, ripping off my robes and kissing me so fiercely that...but it's another to notice his quirks. You know you're in trouble when that happens.  
  
He's the enemy of my Lord, of all my beliefs, and everything I have ever cared about.   
  
So why do I want to fuck him? 


	2. Torture

Torture  
  
Second fic. More torture. Hence the title.  
  
*****  
  
I glare at Harry Potter as he helps that stupid git Hagrid with a Mooncalf. Why we had to have a Care of Magical Creatures class in the middle of the night is beyond me. The ruddy animal is really quite ugly. It dances around a pen while Potter and Hagrid try (in vain) to catch it. Potter has a really annoyed look on his face.  
  
God, is it hot.  
  
I almost forget that it's the middle of November and we're all freezing under our cloaks.   
  
Dammit. I try willing the feelings away, in vain. I hate these classes with Gryffindor.   
  
Potter's just fallen on his arse in the mud. I love to see him suffer. If only he were suffering in my hands...I have to get these thoughts out of my head. Quidditch...Snape naked...bugger. That's gone and made it worse. McGonnagal naked...oh ew. Much better.   
  
Hagrid finally catches the thing. Harry is breathing heavily as he walks back over to Weasley and Granger. Even the way he walks makes me want to-it's a good thing these robes are big and bulky...  
  
Oh god. Did that fool just say that we have to collect it's droppings? I can't take anymore of this. I slip towards the back of the crowd. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't want to be here. Many of us all share the same disgusted looks on our faces.   
  
Hagrid's got the mooncalf on a chain now. I'll bet they had so much fun when the dungeons used to keep people in chains. Harry in chains...Harry shirtless in chains...I am sick.   
  
Why Harry Potter? Of all people? I mean, even Crabbe or Goyle--wait a minute. Perhaps not them. I honestly can't stand him. It's just, he has this aura that pulls me towards him--I can't escape. When I'm near him I have to throw punches just to touch him. If he only knew the torture I go through after those fights...  
  
That's it. I've got to get out of here before I go crazy. Let everyone else stand around picking up shit. I'm going back to the castle. 


	3. Golden Snitch

Golden Snitch  
  
A/N: And lame title. I apologise.   
  
I'm hovering a good fifteen metres above the ground. Below me are flashes of red and green, chasing the red quaffle and dodging the black bludgers. But I'm not watching the players around me. I'm not watching for the snitch either, I am forced to confess to myself.   
  
Again, I'm watching Harry Potter. He's flying a bit below me, doesn't even realise I'm here. If he did notice me watching, he would figure I was just waiting for him to spot snitch. Of course I *never* play like that.   
  
I lean forward on my broom and stroke the handle absently. It's a Firebolt 2X. It's better than Potter's broom. Should have seen his face the first time he saw it at practice. I finally have something that he doesn't. Imagine that. I have what he wants, and he has what I want. He could get a new broom any bloody time he wants---he's got the money. But I can never have...  
  
A bludgers comes flying at me from the left, interrupting my thoughts. I swerve quickly and it grazes the tail of my broom.  
  
These are not good thoughts to be having in the middle of a quidditch match.   
  
I pull my attention back to the game. The score's 30 to 10, in Slytherin's favour. A rare occurrence, ever since Potter joined the team. They blame it all on me, the Slytherins. I'm not the only one on this team! They could try pulling their weight a little. Dammit, I never even wanted to be seeker in the first place. That was father's idea. 'Upstage Harry Potter, boy. Do it, if you know what's good for you.' Well, I haven't done a very good job at that. I wish I could just quit the team.   
  
I laugh as Harry has to dodge an errant bludger. The Gryffindor team has suffered since the loss of the Weasley twins. Ha! He almost fell off his broomstick. Bit of bad luck, that. If he had fallen and killed himself I wouldn't be in this terrible mess anymore. You can't become infatuated with a corpse.  
  
But...you can have your way with a corpse...I've been spending too much time around the Death Eaters. Some of those guys are just---wrong.   
  
What was that? A flash of gold, low on the pitch. That damn snitch. Shit. Potter's seen it too. I go into a sharp dive. Potter's seen that I've located it. He's closer, but I'm faster.  
  
I don't even hear the crowd around us as I near it. We're flying next to each other now. The ball is only a few metres away. There's only on way to go about it. I have to win this game.  
  
I ram into him as hard as I possibly can, sending him off course and off balance. For a moment I think he really will loose his broom and fall to his death. No luck. A second later the Snitch is in my hand, and Potter is floating motionless on his broom as he stares at me.  
  
As I'm holding the snitch up and Slytherin is screaming both in the stands and on the pitch I can't help but give him a smile. Not one of my mocking sneers or smug grins. A real smile. 


	4. Potions Class

Potions Class  
  
A/N: Part four here. I am enjoying this series.   
  
Shameless Plug: My fic 'Desperate Times, Desperate Measures' is now up to five parts. It's got plenty of shirtless!Draco scenes, as well as leather trousers.  
  
*****  
  
Potter and his two-person fan club are just ahead of me, walking down the hall towards our advanced potions class. I wonder if he ever feels like a third wheel, with those two always hanging onto each other.   
  
I quicken my pace. "Move it, Potter." I shove past them and continue into the classroom.   
  
"Is it just me, or has been Malfoy been acting strange of late?" Granger says to Potter.  
  
I can almost feel his eyes on me as I enter class. "No, it's not you."  
  
I ignore them. What else can I do? Crabbe and Goyle are in the dumb class. I can't take on both of them, and when Granger does fight, she goes all out. I have scars from her nails. We fight so much. I know the only reason none of us have been expelled is because of my father and because they're Dumbledore's favourites.   
  
I took my place directly behind Potter and next to Pansy. Pansy and I dated for a while. Didn't last. The sex wasn't very good. Our parents were heartbroken when they heard the news. That is, both our father's threatened to kill me if I didn't take her back. It was a good thing I was at school.  
  
I stared at the back of Harry's head as Snape was lecturing. My hand moved limply as I took notes, the quill making illegible scribbles. There was something about Snape's voice-it entranced me. He just made potions sound so...sexy. As far as the teachers in this school go, they're all pretty awful. But there's something about Severus Snape. Between him and Potter, it's a wonder I can get anything at all done in this class.   
  
I try very hard to force myself to take notes, but it's no good. Professor Snape has noticed my slipping grades in his class. He called me to his office last week. I sat through a long lecture about responsibility and so forth. He even made *that* sound sexy. I was never happier to get out of that room.   
  
It's not my fault he keeps pairing me with Potter for labs. I play with the idea that he knows, and is doing it on purpose. Torture Lucius Malfoy's son. And I used to be his favourite student.   
  
It is torture. (I seem to use that word a lot of late.) Watching him with his robe sleeves rolled up and the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates on his work. He only looks at me when he has to, and it's usually with a scowl on his face that I can't help but find simply irresistible.   
  
Snape is airing us together again. Granger and Weasley are both scowling-Granger is working with Blaise, and Weasley with Dean Thomas. "Potter and Malfoy," Snape snaps. I meet eyes with my professor-his lips curl up in a sneer. Yes. He's doing this on purpose. 


	5. Library Stalking

Library Stalking  
  
A/N: I can't lie when I say that I was amused w/ myself while writing this part.   
  
*****  
  
So this is what it's come to. Bollocks! All I need now is to get caught. He's only a few feet away, walking ahead of me towards the library. Only Granger is with him. Dunno where Weasley's gone off to.   
  
They both enter the library, and I wait a full minute before going in myself. The place is fairly empty, maybe only Madame Pince and a few other students besides Potter and Granger. They were sitting at the table closest to the stacks. Granger is talking in a low whisper, "So he gets all uppity with me, and all I did was say hello to him and--" She stopped speaking as I walked by and watched me carefully. I diverted my gaze and disappeared into the stacks, where there was only one shelf, a mere two rows of books, between us.   
  
"Malfoy was following us," Granger hisses. "Again." Blast. I had been noticed.  
  
Potter looks concerned as he replies. "You think he's got a thing for you or something?"  
  
"Ew!" A look of pure repulsion came across her face. Hey. Look, I know I'm evil and all, but that does *not* make me disgusting. "Harry Potter, you take that back right now." He laughed. "Besides, hasn't Malfoy ever struck you as just a bit," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "gay?"  
  
She said it. I never said it. Has anyone else said it? Bugger it! Okay, calm, calm. The mudblood is fairly clever, all right, a freakin' genius, but that doesn't mean that everyone else has figured it out...oh god.  
  
My mind is reeling and I don't hear his reply. She thinks I'm dodgy. No, not think, knows! Shit.   
  
I find myself on the floor, staring at the shelves in front of me but not seeing the titles on the bindings. I sit there for a long time, thinking. I knew it, of course I knew it, but I didn't admit it to myself. When did I know? It all started back, I suppose back when I was...bollocks. When I met Harry Potter. Bloody hell. As if this could not get any worse. I could kill him, I really could.   
  
But I'd fuck him first.   
  
Everything is always bloody Harry Potter. Breathe. I pull myself up, to find the room void of people. I head towards my room, and hope to god he doesn't invade my dreams. 


	6. Dream a little Dream

Dream a Little Dream  
  
A/N: Yeah, like you didn't see this one coming....   
  
After spending half an hour in a cold shower banging my head on the wall, I get ready for bed. It's early, the others are still up, but I feel drained. Self-realisation will do that to a man. I slip on only a pair of green pyjama bottoms as climb into bed. I lay staring at the ceiling for a few moments, then turn over on my stomach and bury my head under the pillow.   
  
I feel myself waking slowly to soft whispering. "Draco," the voice called gently. "Wake up, love."  
  
A hand caresses my cheek softly. I open my eyes to find his face inches from mine. "Hi," I say softly. He laughs. I sit up in bed and we're facing each other, surrounded by the green velvet curtains. "How did you get in here?" I ask him. "What are you doing here?"  
  
He gives me a mischievous grin. "Followed Crabbe in under my invisibility cloak. I wanted to see you. To tell you...how much I love you." He kisses me then, soft and tender, and I realise that what I had been dreaming for all this time was coming true.   
  
I don't let our kiss stay sweet and chaste-I've waited too long for that. I lean into him and feel our lips melt together as our bodies catch fire. My hand reaches around his waist, pulling him ever closer, while his own hand rests on my thigh.  
  
We are forced to break apart when the need for air becomes urgent. He looks at me with serious eyes, but all I can do is watch his hand as he moves to untie the string of my pyjama bottoms....  
  
I wake breathing heavily and with a...well, never mind that. It is dark now, and Goyle's snoring. I reach for my wand and zap a spell in his general direction. The noise stops.   
  
Now I lay in perfect silence staring at the pitch black ceiling. It just keeps getting worse. 


	7. Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight T...

Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)  
  
A/N: Well, it is that time of year. Title borrowed from a Ramones song. (And the title before was a Corey Feldman movie, btw) This one has a lot more dialogue than I would like (I cut some out), but it was necessary.   
  
*****  
  
It's Christmas time. The whole school is here this holiday. Rules change with the times...once you're at Hogwarts, you don't go home until the end of term. Not that many people want to. What with all that's been going on out there. We don't even go to Hogsmede anymore. I digress.   
  
Classes are out now. They've put together another Yule Ball for the older students, to keep us busy, I suppose. I'm there now. I'm going stag, much to the dismay of the Slytherin girls, and even a few Ravenclaws, I suspect. So they really don't know.  
  
My mind keeps traveling back to Granger's comment in the library last week. She keeps giving me strange looks from over Weasley's shoulder. And Potter too, for that matter. I stare right back at them until they turn away. It seems I have gone from stalker to stalk-ee.   
  
I find myself walking over to where the three Gryfindors are standing in the corner. Why can I never leave well enough alone? "So, Potter, where's your date?"  
  
"Getting drinks," he answers stiffly, nodding in the direction of Ginny Weasley.   
  
"Best friend's little sister? Wow. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren't we?"  
  
"At least I have a date," he counters easily.   
  
I look over to the other side of the room where there was a small group of five or six girls watching me. "Whatever."  
  
"What exactly do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley asks. He looks dangerous, or as dangerous as a Weasley could possibly look. I wasn't wanted here.   
  
"I'm bored. Figured I would go antagonise someone. And I never enjoy fighting with anyone more than I do you three."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah. We all know why *that* is."  
  
Bugger. Fuck. Shit. Every expletive I had ever known ran through my head in unison. Okay. Pretend she didn't say it. She didn't say a word. You are cool, calm, and collected. You're a Malfoy. Act like one. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"   
  
Dammit.  
  
"You know exactly what I mean." Oh great. One of those arguments. She doesn't want to say it anymore than I do. Somehow I find that very amusing. I laugh. "What's so funny?"  
  
I shake my head. "You know what? I don't need this tonight. I'm just going...over there."   
  
As I walk away I hear Weasley speak. "You're right. He is gay." 


	8. Late Nights

Late Nights  
  
A/N: Poor, poor Draco. As if things could get worse for him...  
  
*****  
  
Again, staring at the ceiling in the dark. It's midnight, with classes tomorrow and no sign of sleep in sight. Sleep has become a rarity for me. There are two reasons I'm still awake. One is that my unwanted dreams have increased of late, and it takes a lot of concentration to make myself pretend I don't like them.  
  
Also, it seems as though Weasley's sense of honour isn't half as strong as his girlfriend's. A rumor has started spreading from the Gryffindors to the other houses saying that I'm-that I...that I'm gay. Well it is true...I've gotten as far as admitting it to myself. But I'm not ready for the entire school to know. It's bad enough that half of them do already.  
  
I hear whispers every time I walk by a group of people. The Gryffindors laugh right out about it. It hasn't leaked out to the Slytherins yet. Well, they don't really talk to us anymore, do they?   
  
It'll come out eventually.  
  
I give up sleep and throw on some clothes. Might as well go out. I sneak through the corridors as quietly as possible to avoid Filch and that dratted cat of his. The passage I use is close to the Slytherin common room entrance. Filch knows about it, of course, so I take my chances.   
  
A time later I come up behind the rubbish bin behind the Hog's Head. I go in the pub through the storage room entrance to avoid the main room out front, where Hagrid frequents. There's a little back room, visited by mostly the younger chaps. I take a seat at a table in the back of the smoky room.   
  
Francine, a very curvy waitress with a blond ponytail and low cut robes approached me right away. I get excellent service here. "Draco, baby. Long time, no see."   
  
I hand her a couple of Galleons. "Francie? I want to get very drunk tonight." She nods and leaves. I look over the din to the stage on the other side of the room. A young witch is dancing with a purple snake. I think she graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago. Yeah. Gryffindor prefect. The thought makes me smile.   
  
Francine returns a few minutes later with a shot of Fire Whiskey. I knock it back, cough once, and hand her back the glass. "Another."   
  
An hour later I've gone through about every type of hard liquor they serve. "It's just not fair," I find myself saying to Francine, who is sitting next to me. "Of all the bloody people, why is it Harry Potter?"  
  
"It's perfectly understandable."  
  
"No, no it's not. He's all, 'go Dumbledore, I love muggles' and I'm...not."  
  
"Well, sometimes it's you who has to change. Don't expect him to for your sake."  
  
"Give me another drink."  
  
In the morning I find myself back in my own bed, late for breakfast, and the smell of Francine's perfume lingering on my body. I don't know how I got there, or how I avoided being caught. I do know that I'm no better off--save for a hangover--than I was last night. 


	9. He Isn't...

He Isn't...  
  
A/N: wow. Two chapters in one night. This is another shortie though. As if any of them are long...I figure it's prolly late jan in my timeline. No more than five more fic to finish the series, I figure....  
  
*****  
  
It takes me most of the day to remember what Francine had told me the night before. The other things I remember make me wonder how gay I really am...but Harry still haunts my mind. I'm not going to change for him. Even if I could change, even if I thought that would make him give a damn about me, I still wouldn't.   
  
I'm satisfied with my life as it is. The thought of becoming one of them, a muggle lover...it's beyond me. I feel secure in my position right now. Sure, Lucius Malfoy's Son isn't the best of titles, and I can't stand my father, but there are privileges.   
  
I can't admit to being a good person. At times, I think I'm barely human. Do I really give a damn about anything? When Cedric Diggory died, didn't I think it was funny? There shouldn't be anything funny about death. I do scare myself sometimes, but I don't want to be good.  
  
And he wouldn't care about me, even if I were.  
  
That's the whole thing, isn't it? That I am, and he isn't. I have never once truly thought that anything could ever happen between us. Not after he shot me down on the train way back at the beginning of first year, and then I didn't realise what I was feeling. He's very much on the straight side...though...he never has been able to hold a girlfriend...no. I don't even want to think about it. It's just not going to happen.   
  
Ever.   
  
Such is life. 


	10. Choices

Changes  
  
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. Finals. But I'm on break now, so I can play catch up.  
  
Realisation does not change a thing. I still follow Potter around. I've stopped pretending that I don't. I'm just wondering how long it will take before he A) says something, B) beats the shit out of me, or C) Curses me into the next century. Weasley's looked it a couple times. He feels the need to defend Potter's honour or something. I find it entertaining.  
  
It's been several weeks now--mid-February. St. Valentine's Day, actually. Needless to say, there haven't been many girls flocking around me with chocolates and cards. I don't miss it though. Bloody annoying, the lot of it.   
  
Bloody Harry Potter has a fan club. Valentines day is a big mail day for him. Four owls this morning alone. And here I am, can't even get a date anymore.  
  
One would think it would bother me, having everyone know. But it doesn't really. I've finally got all of those girls off my back, and Crabbe and Goyle have decided that I no longer exist, which, after all of this time, is not a bad thing. God, those two were getting dull. And, I've only been beaten up twice!  
  
On the down side, eventually somebody is going to write to my father....I'm glad they won't let him on the grounds.   
  
It's amazing how much my life as turned around since Christmas. To the world I'm a completely different person than I was a few months ago. To them, I changed overnight. But it's them who have changed, not me. 


	11. Friends and Bets

Friends and Bets  
  
A/N: Just a warning, it's almost over. One, two more parts at the most. :-)   
  
*****  
  
Graduation is fast approaching. Just a few more weeks. I'm studying in a dark corner of the common room right now. Trying to study, anyway. I'm getting no where, because, as usual, my mind keeps wandering over to Harry Potter. Damn him. I randomly scribble his name on a piece of scrap paper.  
  
"So that's who you like." I look up to find Pansy looking over me. Wonderful.  
  
"If you say a word to anyone, I'll hex you into next Tuesday," I threaten, but none too forcefully. Soon I'll be out of this pit, and It won't matter.  
  
"No can do, Draco. I have five galleons riding on this." She sat down in an empty chair beside me. "Eloise Midgeon said it was Professor Flitwick." She laughed.   
  
"You were *betting* on me?" God, I can't believe this. This just gets worse. And worse and worse.  
  
She shrugged. "You're big talk in all social circles these days. Especially among the girls. Poor, poor Blaise. She was certain you were going to ask her out, then all of this came into light. I don't mind. I mean, I knew there had to be a reason that you dumped me."  
  
I laughed, if not a little bitterly. "Maybe you're what turned me off of women."  
  
"You're a real arse, you know that?"  
  
"I know."  
  
"I could be your friend you know, but you're just too rude." She starts to get up and I wonder if I should stop her or not. "And in case you haven't noticed, you could use a few."  
  
I let her walk away. 


	12. Misery

Misery  
  
A/N: It's almost over. One more part. I know you're sad.  
  
Stalking is a hard habit to break. Finals are a few days away, and the library is always packed. I'm watching him over my books. I don't think he sees me. "Watching potter again, are you?" I turn slowly to see who is addressing me this time. A Slytherin fourth year by the name of Malcolm Baddock.   
  
I turn around to him, tired. Pansy had won her little bet, so naturally, the whole school knew. "Look Baddock, I'm not in the mood for this. Really. Why don't you just march on back from whence you came, and let me alone before I turn you into...oh, I don't know, an armadillo."  
  
He sneers in response. This isn't going to be easy. "Yeah, Potter's just so hot, isn't he? So what do you like best about him? His ass? His dick? I'll bet it's his ass. You'd just like to jump him from behind and--"  
  
One second I'm sitting in my chair, the next I'm ramming him into a bookcase, all eyes on us as I have him by the front of his robe. "Okay. That's enough. You like talking about it so much; maybe you'd like it up the ass? Huh? Right here in the library, in front of half the school?"   
  
He looks at me silently with eyes burning with hate. I bang him into the bookcase one more time and let go of him. No one speaks as I exit the room, not even Madame Pince.  
  
Once I'm outside I collapse in the hallway. I don't cry. I never cry. I just sat there looking at the floor.  
  
"Hi." There's a pair of legs in front of me. I look up to find Hermione Granger in front of me.  
  
"I don't need your sympathy, mudblood."  
  
"Well, that's good," she replied stiffly. "Because you're not going to get it." Of course. Whatever was I thinking? "I think it's safe to say it's my fault this is happening to you. I told Ron, who pretty much announced it to the whole Gryffindor common room."  
  
"Thanks loads."  
  
"No problem. And I'm glad I did. You're finally getting what you deserve, Malfoy. Maybe not in the form that I would like, but you can't say that something like this wasn't coming. It's funny how we've had reasons to hate you for years, but it's something that you shouldn't be hated for that there's finally a reaction."  
  
I stare at her dumbfounded as she continues. "I don't hate you because of what you are. I hate you for who you are."  
  
Then she left. Leaving me in the height of my misery this whole year. 


	13. Closure

Closure  
  
A/N: Not too keen on Hermione last part, were we? Boy, we have such hard times dealing w/ the concept that Draco's the bad guy. :) I love writing Hermione when she's being mean.  
  
A note on writing Draco: I started writing him as a tragic romantic with a bit of an edge. He reads romance novels in two of my fics. Then I unknowingly gave him a wry sense of humour and a sarcastic view of himself. I like that. Then we have the universal bitterness towards his father. That was a given. Overall, I'm quite pleased with all of his incarnations in all of my stories. I think how I've fine-tuned him in this story will reflect in any later works.   
  
Okay. Last part. The very last. *I watch my heartbroken fans with an evil grin* My favourite part was 'Potions Class,' personally. Though this part is pretty good. *more evil grins* You don't know what's coming....   
  
*****  
  
It's over. I'm holding a little piece of parchment saying that I have graduated from Hogwarts--with honours, no less. (Lots of potions extra credit.) My mother keeps smiling and tugging at my collar. And 'Oh I'm so proud of my baby boy.' Bugger it all. My father is not in appearance. Should I be surprised? No, his only son's graduation isn't important enough to tear him from his work.   
  
I look through the crowds of people in the Great Hall. Potter is surrounded by Weasley's family. All of them. He's got more family there than I'll ever have, even if his parents are gone. He's lucky. He doesn't know how lucky he is.  
  
Though, he doesn't look too lucky at the moment. He looks like he just wants to get away. Hey, join the club, Potter.   
  
I watch him as he makes excuses and slips out a side door that most people think is a closet. I pull myself from my mother's grasp and follow.  
  
I find him down by the lake, sitting alone, skipping stones across the surface. Yeah. He looks about as happy as I feel. I try to keep myself from approaching him. As usual, it doesn't work. Sometimes I could just kick myself.  
  
I step up behind him. "You wish that your parents were here."  
  
"Yeah? So what is it to you?" He doesn't turn around as he's speaking to me.  
  
"My father didn't come. He was too busy."  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
I took a deep breath. "We've fought since the first day of school. Non-stop. You've never had a positive thought about me."  
  
"Especially where Quidditch is concerned." He grinned wryly.   
  
"Yes, yes. The whole world knows I'm a terrible seeker. I'm trying to have a serious conversation here. For once." He didn't say anything further, nor did he turn around and look at me. He just continued to stare out over the water.   
  
"You've heard all of the rumours about me. I think just about everything that they could possibly dream up has been said. My personal favourite is the sordid affair I had with Hagrid." He didn't laugh. So much for jokes. "I'm not going to confirm or deny anything. I'll leave that up to you."  
  
I took another deep breath. "We started as enemies. I don't want to part as such." He tried to speak. I stopped him. "Wait, wait. I'm hardly suggesting we should be friends. God forbid that. I just want to apologise--for what little it's worth--and part in a truce. After all. The chances of us ever running into each other after today will be slim. Hopefully. All I'm asking for is a little closure."  
  
He finally stood up and turned to me. "I've put up with a lot of shit from you, Malfoy. Seven years of it, in fact. I'm not sure if I can accept that apology now...but I'll work on it. Good enough?"  
  
I nod. "I guess it'll have to be."  
  
So I let him walk away, and out of my life for good. 


End file.
